You can’t give your heart to a wild thing.

There's lots of things you don't know. All kinds of strange things . . . mostly they happened before we were born: that makes them seem to me so much more real.

Every day is a new day with me. All holds are off. All contracts are forgotten.

Of course people couldn't help but think I must be a bit of a dyke myself. And of course I am. Everyone is: a bit. So what? That never discouraged a man yet, in fact it seems to goad them on.

I think to be a good teacher you need an enormous amount of patience and I'm a very impatient person.

And in this moment, like a swift intake of breath, the rain came.

Aprils have never meant much to me, autumns seem that season of beginning, spring.